Nocturne in G Minor
by Kusumita
Summary: Bella knows he’ll never answer. She keeps calling. Edward lets it ring.


DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything of Twilight except for the OC, Gabriel, who is merely mentioned within this one shot.

To make this clear. I'm not a fan of 'Twilight'. I, in fact, loathe it. But I must admit that the idea had much potential if it had been with a different author. This isn't bashing anything, I can't see how it can be seen as bashing anyway. Its an experiment for a long chapter fic I am planning.

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**Nocturne in G Minor**

"I can't adjust to this," Bella moaned, holding their child in her hands while trying to brush through her hair, "I…am absolutely stupefied at the thought of having to do these superficial activities…"

Edward rolls his eyes at Bella's attempt of high class conversation with her obsessive learning of a thesaurus and complaining tone. He zones himself out of her chatter and her mental agonizing with his fingers on the piano and a melody in its notes.

"Where did you learn to play, Edward?" she asks, finally curious about something other than his looks.

Edward hummed for a moment while finishing the nocturne and not even looking away from the prim white keys.

"An old friend inspired me to learn… not long after I was with Carlisle," he muttered softly, "I can't even compare to his beautiful playing."

Bella isn't sure of why Edward's expression turns wistful but she couldn't cover up a small twinge of jealousy. She had wanted his expression of admiration to be fixated upon her and yet there was this feeling she had never sensed from him before become blatantly obvious in his movements. There was a line she couldn't cross when asked and she felt her mouth become dry before she asked it again.

_Did you love her?_

She wonders.

Edward chuckles.

"Gabriel…It was a man, Bella," he mumbled, as if trying to reassure her, "I did… love him."

Bella feels her heart sink as it isn't a friendly way of saying affection- there was is a deep huskiness returning to Edward's tone as he mumbled those words. Something secret lingering in the air before he looks up to the sky through the window and closes his eyes while allowing the breeze to caress his skin; Bella cringed and began to feel sick.

"What… happened to him?" she asked.

Edward stops.

"He died," came his curt reply before distracting himself to the keys once more.

She pressed her hands to her daughter's fingers.

"…Oh," was all she could utter before averting her eyes slightly.

She looked to the door to see the man standing there with an awkward expression. His tanned skin and his long hair seeming very out of place in their small home.

"Jacob!" Bella gets up immediately while ignoring the pained and cringing expression donned on his face.

Jacob smiled falsely.

"I'm here… for Nessie," he looked at the small child, "We're here for our play date."

Bella smiles like a school girl while Jacob holds back the vomit threatening to burst from his throat. The little girl sits together with them while giggling and sipping imaginary tea from a plastic cup. Edward plays his piano without a hitch and closes his eyes to escape to another place- a place where things were different.

--

He couldn't remember the last time he laughed so hard.

With the lights of Chicago began to dim as morning approached. The pair languished together in the dark house waiting for the sunlight to guide their eye sight. Their movements were sloppy as his fingers dabbled along the thin, white shirt they had him dressed in as he entertained the idea that they were in love.

Were they?

Edward couldn't take the time to consider this as he pressed his lips against the other man's. It was an awkward feeling as he wasn't sure exactly where on the man's face he kissed while still fumbling with his jacket. He heard a sharp hitch of breath as he felt the man follow through and kiss him back, his lashed covered over the whiteness of his eyes as his fingers ran along his dark skin.

"You're making a mistake," he mumbled, Edward didn't listen, "You're making a big mistake staying here. Your parents will know."

Edward allowed a small chuckle to fill his throat as he pulled away and pressed his forehead into the man's shoulder.

"Perhaps….Perhaps," he muttered lazily, running his hands through the man's dark hair, "After all… being with someone like _you_ is a crime in itself- far less in a house like this."

The man tensed beneath his touches as his words stung deep.

"Excuse me, for my_ complexion_," he replied curtly, pushing the young man off and opening the window for a cool breeze to pass through.

Edward groaned while following him through the doorway.

"You always do that," he started, rubbing his forehead tiredly, "You always do that, never understanding a joke. Take offense then go ahead and play that blasted piano of yours."

The dark skinned man looked up from his caresses of a mahogany piano as he licked his lips longingly. A cheeky grin entered his features as he sat himself down and turned energetically towards Edward with a childish laugh.

"Let me play you a tune, shall I?" he inquired, already setting up as if Edward had already replied, "The one you always like?"

Edward licked his lips in discontent but approached the man without any more protest.

"Mozart..perhaps?" Edward chuckled and pressed his hands into the man's back, "I have a keen sense that you'd play Prelude-,"

The man shook his head sharply.

"Name this piece, and I'll give you a treat," he challenged, a mischievous glimmer in his eyes.

The man pressed his hands to the keys and he began to play. His fingers danced along the rhythm of the song as the melody flooded the entire room in an enchanting embrace of a past memory filled with beautiful laughter and ringing sadness. Edward couldn't quite place it, but he had heard this tune before. As people died in the streets and influenza wrecked the cities- this melody carried the absolute agony of a cheerful song in times like this.

Filled with duty and lacking in fervor because his heart couldn't quite process the reasoning behind it.

Why was he smiling?

He felt the tears coming to his eyes and yet he couldn't tear his eyes away from the man's fingers and moving arms. He looked absolutely enraptured in the morning light and in his piano playing as his eyes glazed over while reciting the notes in his head.

The tears flowed freely as the song began to crescendo and soon follow with a silenced fall

It was a march. A funeral march.

"Gabriel…," Edward muttered, pulling his hands through Gabriel's hair as his tears stained his shirt, "You won't die. You can't… die."

The dark skinned man's shoulders began to shake as he buried his head in his hands and a deafening cough filled the room. He hacked and gagged and soon the white keys of the board became stained with red and the sticky liquid ended up mixed in with his fingers.

"Gabriel!!" he gripped the man's shoulders as his breathing became shallow, "Gabriel! I-I'll get the doctor!"

Gabriel's breathing slowed.

"I..I think you should leave," he whispered hoarsely, pressing his fingers against the piano's keys.

Edward's hands shook as he gripped the man again, unsure of exactly what he had just said. Gabriel's arms snapped backwards and violently shoved the teenager off his back.

"I said to **leave**!" he bellowed strongly, unable to look back and stare at Edward's tortured expression.

Gabriel's shoulders hunched themselves over as he continued to wreck his body with coughs. Edward slowly retreated out the door, never taking his eyes off of his lover all the while.

"I never know what you're thinking Gabriel…I wish I could have read minds. Then- then I would know if you really wanted me to stay," he cried out to the man, "Though… I doubt it would make much of a difference."

He laughed bitterly with tears in his eyes.

"I doubt I'd ever understand what was in your mind- you hardly seem to comprehend it yourself."

With those parting words, Edward's footsteps soon echoed through the empty hallways of the coming morning. The sun light penetrated through the darkness as the curtains had already been drawn from the previous night.

That is how they found him. Shaking, wheezing and lips stained with blood but with his hands clutching his chest as if the greatest pain wasn't his burning throat or dying breaths- but a strange agony gripping his heart.

--

"Where are you going?!" she shrieked, pulling at his jacket as he stepped outside of the house.

He pulled away from her roughly, glaring in her direction as he loaded himself into the car and closed the door. Bella gripped at the window of the car as he stared the engine. There was a fire in his eyes, a passionate mission set in his soul as he revved the engine and heightened her distress.

"I have to know..," Edward mumbled mysteriously, turning his gaze away.

Bella cringed and closed her eyes.

"Don't keep me out, Edward! Stop keeping me out!" she screamed, holding her head in her hands, "I did all this… I did all this for you!"

Edward's smile tilted slightly, it was awkward but in a dangerous form of dastardly amusement.

"I never asked you to," he replied simply, "Can you truly look in the mirror and say you're better on the inside? No matter how many physical differences you may possess now from the artificial life style you have come into- you're no different from that crying little girl that watched her father walk away after a divorce."

He hissed at her sharply.

"Life is about sacrifices, Bella," he shot violently at her, "When as the last time you made any that never allowed you peace for over a hundred years."

She couldn't respond to his bitter assault as she stepped back from the car and gripped her hands around her small body.

"You've changed, Edward," she muttered quietly.

His expression didn't change as he stared at her straight on.

"Have I?" he asked, before peeling out of the drive way at an alarming rate.

He never looked back even as Bella crumpled to the ground in heartache. He never looked back.

Not once.

--

He feels the vibration of his cellular phone once more.

It has become a tangible annoyance to pull himself out of his thoughts of depressive memories and unspoken promises. He is breathing heavy as his back slightly aches from overuse- he's never dug a grave before. He never bothered to disturb the dead for the mere fact he's afraid he might be staring into a mirror.

He, himself, is dead which has become an ironic fable within itself.

He ignores it until it stops and the efforts of the person on the other line have become wasted. He gripped the shovel's handle harshly while fighting off the urge to merely desecrate the grave and dig with his bare hands- but he could never bring himself to show such an unsightly appearance to this person.

The digging has already dirtied his clothing and his mind is gnawing at his gut while arguing the fact that old dogs are meant to sleep in deep graves than one so shallow. Edward's breath hitched as the metal shovel resonated a loud sound of something being struck. He isn't sure how deep it is but he knows its far too shallow and his fears are soon becoming realized. Throwing all caution to the wind, he throws the shovel to the side and slammed to his knees while feverishly digging into the dirt with his fingers and nails before forcefully gripping the locked coffin's cover.

He hesitates. Does he really want to confirm what he already suspects by raising the coffin and looking upon the face of realized hate?

He isn't sure but slowly his arm moves and the case opens to reveal an empty nest filled with nothing but the musky scent of wood and closeted fabrics. Gabriel's head hadn't touched the pillows and silks of his coffin for possibly centuries since his death- and Edward couldn't tell the difference between his horror and his pleasure at the thought.

He stares at the empty coffin for hours before decided to cover it back.

He hears his phone vibrating once again. He pulls it out and sees the name of 'Bella' written across the screen which causes his feeling to suddenly die and fade into one of platonic awareness. He presses the side of immediately ends the call.

A dead tone resonated through the phone line.

Bella knows he'll never answer.

She grips the receiver and dials again. She keeps calling.

Chopin's music escapes from the electronic device as he laughs.

Edward lets it ring.

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No ignorant hating, please and thank you.


End file.
